“We have been so fortunate as to find a farmer who appreciates us, and will allow no one to shoot us. So our year has been peaceful, and we have been bountifully fed.” An ungainly toad hopped forward as the quails ceased speaking: “I do not look much like a quail, and can neither fly nor run nor sing; but I also am the farmer’s friend, and am always ready to seize my opportunities when they come in the shape of flies and bugs. I may not be beautiful, to some unappreciative eyes, but I am at least useful.” The birds having selected the chattering jay to speak for them, he raised his voice as follows: “My friends desire me to say that our lives are lived above most of the things that annoy the rest of you. Floods and dogs and fences do not trouble us: still, we have dangers enough of our own. There are snakes that climb to our nests and destroy our young. There are prowling cats, and pouncing hawks, and boys with bean-shooters, and men with guns, all of whom are lying in wait for our lives. We are so common and so numerous that men fail to appreciate what we do for them. We make their groves bright by our brilliant plumage, and gay with our cheerful songs. We eat millions of caterpillars and bugs and worms. To be sure, we eat some of the grain and peck the ripest fruit, but then that should be looked upon as our just reward for our labors in men’s behalf. Some of us will soon be taking our flight to southern climes, but many of us will remain here in the friendly shelter of the thickets until spring comes again.” What more the blue jay might have said was cut short by a great crackling of the bushes, which startled all the birds and smaller animals, and caused even the mountain lion to raise his head and sniff suspiciously. Their alarm was quieted by the appearance of an old white horse who looked around upon the assembly and asked: “What is all this? How does it come that coyotes and rabbits, birds and lizards and insects and lions”—very respectfully—“are associating in peace together?” The object of the meeting was explained to him, and he was asked to add his word to the Thanksgiving service. “What have I to be thankful for? Look at my bones almost sticking through my skin, my knees strained and my eyes almost blinded by pulling too heavy loads, my wind broken by hard driving, my skin scarred by cruel blows. Life has been all hard work, with scanty food and little rest. What have I to be thankful for? I do not know, unless it is that my cruel master died last night, and can never beat and curse and starve me any more. This is scanty pasture here among the sandhills, but it is better than a full manger, and curses and abuse therewith. Often the best thing that can happen to a horse is to have his master die. And so I am duly thankful.” As all had now been represented, the jackrabbit said: